Play it Again, Sarah
by TheDeuce
Summary: Sarah once again finds herself in the all too familiar Labyrinth. This time, things aren't how she remembers them as she is faced with making life or death decisions that will bring her world crashing down at her feet.
1. Default Chapter

Chapter 1  
  
The doctors seated at the board room table sipped their coffee while feigning interest in what Dr. Blanchard was saying. Some tapped their pens on their notepads, some doodled to kill the time. If you asked any of the twelve men sitting around the table they'd all agree that the meeting had already gone on thirty minutes too long.  
  
Dr. Blanchard cleared his throat. "As I was saying, if this hospital doesn't continue to receive funding from said parties, then we'll have to cut more programs."  
  
That seemed to get the attention of a few of the doctors. Cutting funding to some of them could mean that years of research could go to waste. Research that was so important to them that they chose it to their own families, being a cause for divorce amongst several of them. Others were considered estranged fathers to their sons; never catching little league games or forgetting band competitions because of a new finding in the lab.  
  
"I see more of you are with me now." Dr. Blanchard began to pace around the table like a lion circling its prey. "I have in front of me a list of programs that the board considers 'nonessentials'." Faces looked at him from pencil sketches. Deer in the headlights. "There's also a list of names to be cut." And as the semi kept on driving, there was now fur all over the highway.  
  
"I've made some copies for your review." As he began to pass out the pieces of paper, a nurse burst into the room. He saw her out the corner of his eye, and could see that she was breathing heavily in a panic.   
  
"Dr. Blanchard!" She cried out, her voice gurgling.  
  
"Not now, Nancy. We're in a meeting…" his gaze shifted upwards to a large red stain that was growing near her neckline.   
  
"There's something wrong with one of the patients!"   
  
"Good God, Nancy, is that blood?" There was a large smear on her forehead that was dripping blood down onto her once-white nurse's uniform. "Which patient is it?"   
  
"It's…it's him."  
"Him?"  
  
"Patient 13."  
  
Dr. Blanchard's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates as he made a mad dash out of the room. Two of the doctors followed behind him to see what was going on while three others attended Nancy's wound.  
  
Blanchard ran down the hall with speed attributed back to his collegiate days on the track field. Years of neglect and doughnuts stayed his course, though. By the time he reached the top of the staircase he was almost at his knees, huffing and puffing for air.  
  
He reached the end of the third corridor and unlocked the first of several safety doors designed to keep patients confined to their rooms. Thirty feet and four doors later, he arrived at Room J. He could hear the commotion from within before he looked inside.  
  
The scene before him was one all too familiar. A white padded room with a patient clothed in a straight jacket and standard issue non-elastic pants. The man inside was tall, slender, and donned short spiky hair, despite St. Bridgett's Mental Health Institution's best efforts to shave it. He ran back and forth, kicking at the walls and screaming. Blood dripped from his mouth.  
  
"Dear God…you bit Nancy?" The man flashed him a toothy grin, the blood on his chin his spoils of victory. "ORDERLIES! Bring the Demerol, STAT!"   
  
The lights began to flicker as thunder from outside bellowed in the halls. Lightning flashed, creating a strobe light effect all around. Dr. Blanchard turned back to the window in front of him and was mere inches away from Patient 13.  
  
"You tell her," he began to speak to Dr. Blanchard, "you tell that bitch that she knows where to find me." A bolt of lightning ripped through the night sky, and with a rumble of thunder that shook the whole building, the lights went out. Seconds later, backup generators kicked in with auxiliary lighting. An orderly reached Dr. Blanchard and handed him the Demerol syringe as Blanchard was able to get the door unlocked.  
  
"What the….?" What was in front of them now made no utter sense. For where Patient 13 had been standing there only remained a straight jacket and pants. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
"For never was a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo."  
  
The red curtain closed and the thousands in the theatre sprang to their feet, applauding.   
  
The actors and actresses darted out behind the curtain to form a bow line. The Director ran around making sure everyone was in place. Everyone was here…except for the main two. He darted around backstage to make sure they hadn't slipped off. They were just onstage, they couldn't have gotten away so easily.   
  
He looked to his left to the slab where they had laid. There they were, arms wrapped around each other, lips encircling each other. "Damn it Sarah, you and Anthony quit making out and form up!"   
  
The two quit kissing and smiled at each other. They had done it. Four nights on Broadway, each night performing to a sold out crowd. The press the show had gotten was phenomenal, even calling Sarah "Broadway's Most Sought After Actress."   
  
They made their curtain calls and adjourned to the backstage lounge. She was on cloud nine. If only her mother could have seen her tonight. Before she could have time to dwell on the matter, Anthony was behind her, his arms on her hips. "You did it," he said to her, nibbling on her ear.  
  
"Thanks," she smiled. "You weren't so bad yourself."  
  
"I try. Hey, are you going to Stacey's party Saturday?"  
  
Sarah looked back at him, puzzled. "Stacey's throwing a party?"  
  
"Of course. Don't you check your mail?"  
  
"I haven't had much time, I've been rehearsing so much at the park recently. I always hate it when you can't remember a line."  
  
"I doubt you have to worry about that much, Sarah. You always seem to nail each one."  
  
She smiled back at him. She had just met Anthony two months ago at auditions. They had been paired up to read lines together and the director saw the natural chemistry between them. When they landed the roles opposite each other, they had spent many late nights rehearsing together.   
  
"I've got to get out of this thing," Sarah said, finding the discomfort of her corset.  
  
Anthony donned a wicked grin. "ooh, I'll help."  
  
She shook her head as she backed into the dressing room. "You're going to have to try harder than that," she said, shutting the door before he could reply.  
  
A short squatty woman who had played The Nurse came bouncing across the room. "oh Sarah, I'm so proud of you," she gave Sarah a big hug, knocking the wind out of her. "Oh deary, take a seat, here." She sat Sarah down in a folding chair as she began to dart around the room, handing her some things. "You'll need your makeup remover, don't want to walk around looking like a hooker, Oh, and you'll need to take your wig off, can't keep that, the prop master will go wild, you've gotta have a Playbill before they're all gone, and here's today's copy of The Gazette, they gave a rave review of last night's performance, but I think tonight's was far better, oh, and you've got to be thirsty, have a bottle of water, and the catering trays are almost all gone, here's some finger food, you've GOT to be starving after that…"  
  
As the woman trailed on, something tugged at the back of Sarah's mind. She had to get out of this chair. She sprang to her feet. "Thanks Betty, I'll pack it all up and take it home, thanks."  
  
"There ya go, sweetie, can't have too much swag, I always say," Betty kept toiling around the dressing room, making sure the others had plenty of things to take home with them as well.  
  
Twenty minutes and two aspirin later, Sarah was on the street with her bag slung over one shoulder, hailing a cab. The past few months had flown by. Between line readings, rehearsals, dress rehearsals, she had only gotten to find free time by going to the park and reading the play to herself, focusing on perfecting every line.   
  
In all of her rushing to do this and that, she hadn't even gotten much of an opportunity to do her dishes, as they were spilling out of the sink and onto every square inch of counter space that she had. Looking at the mess before her, she made a vow to do them tomorrow. Her dishes…were in front of her.   
  
Sarah looked around, her bag dropping from her shoulder. She was standing in her kitchen. She opened up her bag and looked in her wallet. One of the ten dollar bills was missing. She must have taken that cab and been in a daze for the whole ride.   
  
"You're losing it, Sarah," she said to herself as she walked into the bathroom and splashed some water on her face. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. "Or did you ever have it?" She flicked off the light and went to retrieve her mail from the table.   
  
There it was, plain as gold: a party invitation for Saturday night. She ripped it open and read it over. It was to be a Masquerade ball. Seemed about right considering the thespians that she hung around with were all eclectic. She smiled to herself, "I've got the perfect thing to wear."  
  
As she sauntered over to her bed, she missed the flashing red light on her phone, indicating that she had voice mail. No sooner had her head hit the pillow than the phone rang. "Let the voicemail get it," she moaned under her breath as she drifted off to sleep. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
Saturday night had finally arrived. Sarah had agreed to meet Anthony at the party around 11pm or so, when things were already swinging. She checked herself over one more time before knocking on the door.   
  
The door was opened by a pirate, or a knight or something similar, Sarah wasn't quite sure. There was something oddly familiar about him, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She brushed past him and made her way inside him. "Did I miss something?" he called after her.  
  
Sarah's white gown seemed to be a little too big for Stacey's cramped apartment. Several times already she'd had to lift the train up with both hands just to scoot past someone. She scanned the crowd for any sign of Anthony. It seemed that he wasn't here yet. Either that or his costume was so good that it was even fooling Sarah, who had spent almost every waking moment of the past two months with him or thinking about him.  
  
A girl in a long emerald dress sauntered over to Sarah. "Sarah! I'm glad you could make it here. Did you get caught in the rain?"  
  
"The rain?" Sarah was slightly baffled.  
  
"Yes, hon, the rain. It's been pouring the past two nights." She took a good look at Sarah, who was looking a bit pale. "Are you alright? Are you on anything?"  
  
That comment seemed to snap Sarah back into reality. "What?"  
  
Stacey repeated herself. "Are you on anything? You know, coke, pot, stuff like that."  
  
"Oh…heavens no! I'd never do anything like that." Sarah drew herself up a bit, offended that she'd been ask this. "What on earth makes you think I'd get myself involved in a scene like that?"  
  
Stacey let out a "humpf" and was quick with her retort. "well, you are seeing Anthony…"  
  
"Now what's THAT supposed to mean?" Sarah was getting peeved by this point in their conversation, her face going red.  
  
The look on Stacey's face had now turned to genuine concern. "You don't know, Sarah?"  
"Know what?"  
"Oh Sarah, I'm sorry, I thought you were aware of his…condition."  
  
Sarah's face turned from red to a shade of white even paler than her dress.  
  
Stacey got up. "You need a drink. How's a fuzzy navel sound?"  
  
Sarah simply nodded, trying to take in all the information she had just been given. She surveyed the crowd. Some of the helping hands that were stagehands had shown up early in the evening sans costume. They were huddled together in the corner playing a game of Scrabble.   
  
Todd and Eric, or Tybalt and Prince, as she'd taken to calling them, were talking about selling cars on the side. "Do people ever try to hoggle with you?"  
  
"They try, and we take some money off, but then we charge them $80 for vinyl floor mats." As the two started to chuckle, Sarah was on her feet, interrupting them.  
  
"Sorry, Eric, did you say 'hoggle'?"  
  
"Hoggle? No, I said 'haggle'. You need your ears checked, babe?"  
  
She shook her head, "I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking." She started to laugh to herself. "Hoggle? What's that supposed to mean, anyway?" The others joined in her laughter.  
  
Stacey came around and handed her the drink. A few quick sips and she was feeling much more social, walking around the crowd and chatting with her costars. There were auditions in two weeks for Cats, and some of them were returning to mixed jobs, while others were flying to London to try and keep on the Shakespearean circuit.   
  
The storm outside was now apparent to Sarah, as several times cracks of thunder had made the entire party silent. She looked around, but still there was no sign of Anthony. By quarter to midnight, the party was in full swing, with new faces arriving every other minute or so.  
  
The costumes were elaborate, and she was enjoying playing the game of figuring out who was who. A lone figure from across the room caught her eye. He was somewhat tall, or at least he carried himself that way. He wore long black boots, gray tights, and a brilliant cobalt rhinestone shirt. His hair was blonde and spiky.   
  
Sarah stood, frozen in time. Years of therapy, locking away her past and throwing away the key were now lost as Pandora opened the box. "No," she said, her voice trembling, "it can't be…" Tears began to form in her eyes.  
  
Her cell phone rang, and time unfroze as fumbled for the thing. She looked back up quickly, but the man was gone. She pulled out the antenna and opened the phone up. "Hello?"  
  
The voice on the other end of the phone was not familiar to her. She took another sip of her drink, trying to calm herself down.  
  
"Sarah, this is Dr. Blanchard."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Dr. Blanchard, from St. Bridgett's. Sarah, I don't know how to put this, but I'm afraid there's been an accident."  
  
Sarah grew cold. "An accident?" She was sounding more serious at this point. "What kind of an accident?"  
  
The voice cleared its throat one more time, "I'm afraid it involves your brother."  
  
"Toby?!"  
  
The man in the cobalt coat was inches in front of her. "Hello, Sarah."  
  
Sarah dropped her phone. "Toby…"  
  
Toby smiled at her, not the normal smile of a sibling reuniting with an estranged one, but that of maniacal glee.   
  
"How did you get out, Toby?" Sarah was shivering, head to toe, barely able to hold her drink.  
  
"Dear sister, I think the better question is 'why' I got out." Stacey switched music on the stereo to a storybook waltz. "Dance with me." It wasn't a request, it was an order. Sarah could barely believe what was unfolding in front of her as she found herself dancing with her brother.  
  
"You see, sister, while you may not have believed it or not, my Mother loved your Father. So much, that she decided that your mental health was worth far more than mine."  
  
He spun her around the room a few times, mixing her from one side of the crowd to the next.   
  
"You went away to college when I was a few years old. The nightmares kept me up at night, always the same nightmares. My own sister, wishing the Goblin King to take me away. Dreams, always the same dreams. Being locked in a tower with the goblins poking and prodding, waiting for their chance with me."  
  
The pace quickened, and Sarah was having a hard time finding her feet.  
  
"I'd wake up screaming. I'd say 'mommy, there's a goblin under my bed'. She would come in, and say 'it's just a scarf, Toby, get some sleep!'" Toby scoffed. "When I was eight, they sent me uptown to an institution. They medicated me, Sarah. Do you know what that's like? Having no control over even your own thoughts? Do you? No, I don't think so, you were too busy prancing around onstage, pretending you were in a fairy tale."  
  
"Toby, you need help, I can…"  
  
"You've done enough in that you've done NOTHING at all. When I turned 18, the state didn't want anything to do with me, nor did your Father, so they sent me to St. Bridgett's. Do you know what they do there, Sarah? Do you? They hook you up to electrodes and try to shock the thoughts out of you."  
  
Sarah began to slowly sob, "I'm sorry, that's horrible…I had no idea…"  
  
"You think that is horrible? Heh, child's play, sis. They put me in a straight jacket and threw me in a padded room. Then came the new dreams. A wrecked goblin city, and your beloved Jareth trying to put the pieces back together again. He lost his chance to kill you, you know. I rallied the goblins together and rebuilt the city, throwing Jareth into the oubliette."  
"You did WHAT?"  
  
"You heard me, bitch. I promised you to the goblins and they made me their king. And now, I have fulfilled my promise to them. I get to bring you back to the Labyrinth."  
  
Sarah wasn't believing what she was hearing. Sure, she knew the sad truth that her brother had been sent to several different mental institutions, but she hadn't realized that he had any memory of their ordeal in the castle beyond the Goblin City. He was certifiably insane, there was no way he could take her back to the Labyrinth.  
  
"Toby," she began, trying to overthrow his logic, already planning her escape to the door, "exactly how do you plan to take me back?"  
  
Toby simply smiled. "Enjoying your drink, Sarah? Fuzzy Navels, they're made from peaches, aren't they?"  
  
Time seemed to freeze again. "Toby, what have you done?"  
The evil smile on her brother's lips was the last thing she saw before fading to black. 


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4  
  
Sarah awoke, screaming, "TOBY!" She found herself sitting up on a hill, the grass brown from years of drought. Her voice still echoed in the distance as she got to her feet. She rubbed her eyes, trying to take everything in. Was this a dream? Sarah pinched herself to make sure it wasn't, as a strange sense of deja vu crept over her.  
  
She looked at the valley ahead. There were plains as far as she could see, in any given direction. When she turned around, her heart froze, her feet taking root in the ground beneath her. For there, in front of her, was the object of nightmares past: The Labyrinth.   
  
From where she stood she could make out the main gate, no more than a hundred yards away. Then a thought popped into her head: "Hoggle!" she said, a smile forming on her face. She took flight down the hill, making for the gate with breakneck speed.   
  
Sarah reached the gate in seconds flat. She looked wildly around, "Hoggle!" but there came no reply. She ran around the pond, shouting his name every few feet, but there was no sign of her old friend. Slowly, she started walking back towards the gate.  
  
Movement from her side drew her attention towards one of the wall outcroppings. "Hoggle?!" she cried in desperation.  
  
"No, Sarah, I'm afraid you're too late for that." Toby sat perched on a granite slab, mostly covered by the brush. His clothing had slightly changed by now to a black leather vest instead of the his blue frock coat. He ran a black gloved hand through his short, blonde hair.   
  
He looked her in the eyes, and for the second time in her life she looked back at him with a feeling of uneasiness. "Do you know what happens to things when you leave them unloved, Sarah?"  
  
Sarah, not really knowing what to say, simply shook her head.  
  
Toby smirked. "They die." As he said this, he drew back the brush, uncovering the stone he was sitting on. There were markings on the slab, which read: HERE LIES HOGGLE.  
  
Sarah fell to her knees, crying in a ball. Toby laughed, watching her for several moments before continuing.   
  
"I remember tears, Sarah. It's hard to conceive, but I do remember tears. When you lay still at night, strapped to your gurney, your mind tends to wander. Back to the family who says they loves you, and then does otherwise."  
  
Sarah interrupted him, "Toby, I do…"  
  
"THAT is a LIE!" Toby waved his hand upwards, as if he was smacking something, and the doors to The Labyrinth lurched open. He hopped off his perch and put his left hand under her chin, slowly drawing up to her feet.   
  
He was tall. She'd never realized how tall he'd gotten. Apparently, she hadn't realized a lot of things about him.   
  
"You know the drill, Sarah. Thirteen hours." With that said, a clock appeared by his side, sporting thirteen numbers.   
  
"Thirteen hours until what, Toby?"  
  
Toby smiled at her. "Thirteen hours until the poison in your drink takes full effect. And let's see…" he looked down at a pretend watch. "Oh my," he looked up at her, remorseful, "you seem to have overslept." He waved his hand at the clock and it counted down three hours. "Ten hours," he said, as he backed away slowly. When there was about ten feet between them, he faded from plain sight, saying, "better run." 


End file.
